Cold War
by RedXRover
Summary: Ivan and Ludwig fight over blanket ownership. RusGer fluff.


Ivan and Ludwig. Fighting over blanket ownership :)

* * *

Ivan knew immediately what had woken him. The snow outside was falling in thick layers, smothering the world in white. Inside, it was much the same. Sound was smothered almost as soon as it was made, seemingly to be swallowed by some unseen void.

The silence wasn't what had awoken him, though.

It was the cold.

Ivan didn't get cold easily.

Ludwig was extremely finicky about the thermostat controls. He seemed to have a supernatural ability to detect even the slightest drop or rise in temperature in his home.

Once, Ivan had turned the dial one degree lower, and just as quickly changed it back. Later that night, he observed Ludwig carrying a load of laundry down the hall. The German had stopped, narrowed his eyes, and retraced his last couple of feet to peer at the knob. The temperature had not changed, and the dial showed no outward evidence of having been tampered with but from the way Ludwig stared at it so keenly, as if he knew that the delicate balance had shifted, as if he were scrutinizing Ivan's very fingerprints, had the Russian's cheeks flush as he shuffled somewhere unseen, all the while keeping his eyes down as he toyed with the end of his scarf.

Eventually Ludwig had moved on to do the laundry.

However that had been the beginning and ending of Ivan's experiments with the thermostat.

As the Russian recalled this, he shivered, bringing him back to the problem at hand. His amethyst eyes flicked to where his partner lay,wrapped in a neat little cocoon.

A warm cocoon.

Ludwig was very particular about how he slept; Ivan had watched him sleep on many nights plagued by insomnia. During the summer, he would lay down on his back, legs and arms straight, with his feet tucked firmly inside the blankets. The covers only reached his chest. However, this would drastically change throughout the night. Somehow or another, the blonde would always end up sprawled on the bed in a position that would heavily remind Ivan of a dead starfish.

Winter was much the same way but for the extra step in the middle. The step at which Ludwig was in now. First, the log: heavy and silent and straight. Then, the cocoon: nestled safely inside a shroud of warm blankets. Eventually, the German cocoon would evolve into a beautiful... Dead starfish.

It was all quite fascinating.

Just not tonight.

Now Ivan must weigh his options.

He could wait until Ludwig relinquished his hold on the blanket enough for him to snatch his bit of rightfully earned cover... Or he could simply take it.

The second choice was proving to be the most attractive of the two to the already cranky, impatient Russian.

So with no other thoughts than to get back to relative warmth (and perhaps roll over on Ludwig to smother him a bit-by accident of course), he took hold of the blanket and gave a tug.

Ludwig stuck fast to the cloth on the first few times, before Ivan sighed, swearing for a moment that he could see his own breath fog, and growled, pulling it from beneath his spouse. Immediately following the violent tug, the German rolled out of his cocoon and was met with cold air.

He woke groggily and blinked at his partner with an uncomprehending expression. "It's cold." He mumbled plaintively, voice nearly child-like.

"I know." Came Ivan's sour reply.

The younger wrinkled his nose in distaste and reached for the blanket the Slavic man was coveting.

Ivan was ready and held it from his lover's reach easily with how slow Ludwig's reflexes were. That seemed to wake the blonde enough for a confused look taking hold of his features. Blue eyes looked from the blanket to Ivan and back to the blanket again.

The Russian saw those slow wheels turning in his head as Ludwig caught up. Suddenly, the younger man's eyes narrowed and his lips pursed. His voice hardly sounded like the mildly sweet tempered German Ivan was so used to when he uttered three soft words in the deep, threatening growl of a demon unchained from the depths of hell. "Give. It. Back."

Ivan stared, wide eyed and unmoving, his countenance that of a deer caught in the headlights of a semi truck. So this is what happens when the transformation is interrupted. Huh. He would have to try more of these experiments in the name of science.

Ludwig lunged. Ivan nearly screamed.

A mad tug of war followed suit; these were not the actions of a couple having a lover's tiff.

This was war in the sheets where love was usually dominant.

The brawl lasted a good seven minutes or so and ended when Ludwig managed to kick Ivan off the bed, and nearly falling behind if he had not let go of the cover in time. Now that Ivan had sole ownership of the blanket, Ludwig raised a haughty chin in disdain and pointedly turned to face the wall, lying down without it.

Ivan found himself rather satisfied with how the whole affair panned out. On top of having won this so called Cold War, having obtained the blanket, he was also thoroughly exhausted and already more than a little warm. In fact, the only thing now that kept him from sleep were the continuous tremors coming from the opposite side of the bed, where Ludwig lay. Guilt nagged at his mind. Of course Ludwig was not nearly as accustomed to the cold as he was.

Ivan cautiously draped half the blanket across the German and pulled the man against his chest.

Body heat was better than a blanket any day.

Especially Ludwig's.

* * *

Ahhh when will my shitty RusGer ever stop? The world may never know. Another ficlit for TheGeniusLackingInMotivation


End file.
